


A Knife in My Heart Couldn’t Slow Me Down

by ashleyfanfic, justwanderingneverlost



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, F/M, Hurt, Incest, Love, Missing Scene, R Plus L Equals J, our beans are sad, scene between 8x02 and 8x03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-24 13:39:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18572605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashleyfanfic/pseuds/ashleyfanfic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/justwanderingneverlost/pseuds/justwanderingneverlost
Summary: Daenerys is still reeling from the news Jon told her before the blasts of the horn. But the dead have arrived and try as she might, she can't escape her love as she prepares to fly into battle.





	A Knife in My Heart Couldn’t Slow Me Down

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came to me yesterday and JW worked her ass off to make it better. What you read here is a combined effort of love for this couple and the characters individually. 
> 
> She also made the most gorgeous mood board.
> 
> The title of this song comes from the song "Power is Power" by The Weeknd, SZA, and Travis Scott. 
> 
> The rating is mainly due to language.

Daenerys mounted the horse waiting to take her to her children. She was acutely aware of Jon on her heels, leather creaking, breath ragged as he vaulted into the saddle of his own horse. He was a spector at her back, suffocating and unsettling. Incompatible with the sweet man she knew from only hours before. 

  


She dug her heels into her steed with a vicious kick, only somewhat assuaged as it shot into the night, racing away from him and his truth. The cold air bit at her face, burned her lungs, and stung her eyes. But she welcomed it, wanted it,  _ hoped _ it might freeze the traitorous tears that tracked her cheeks.

  


Her mind still swirled, and her chest ached, every emotion taking an endless eternity to slam into her only for the next to do the same. She reached the hill her sons waited upon all too soon and climbed from her horse. The frightened and frenzied shouts from the castle found their way to her ears despite the fierce and frigid winds whipping around her. She surveyed the scene below, torches and pitch aflame, the only light within the sea of darkness that hid the dead.

  


How had she gotten here? In this frozen wasteland at the edge of the world, surrounded by enemies? One unnatural and beyond belief, drawing in and determined to bring death to them all. Others unbending, blinded and bigoted, full of hate for her and her people. 

  


_ Your heart. _

  


Yes, it was as simple and as complicated as that. She'd followed her heart, the man she loved, one she knew within her very bones loved her in return. How rare a thing to find at all, let alone in a time of war. She had certainly never expected it, expected  _ him _ . There had been a time she thought it cruel. A peace, a love, a comfort she could never have imagined brought to her door, her heart's desire dangled in front of her to tease and torment, knowing the moment she reached for it, the vengeful fates would snatch him away. 

  


But Jon, with his sweet and honorable heart, had been too much of a temptation to turn from. She'd fallen so quickly she'd never even realized she'd not just fallen from the cliff, but leaped.

  


She loved him with every ounce of her soul, trusted him with her broken heart, certain he could piece it back together, and yet here she stood, feeling as if he'd just taken his sword to her knees. One lethal, vicious blow striking her from nowhere and her dreams were destroyed. Her anchor lost, cut away, leaving her drifting on a violent sea, more alone than she'd ever been.

  


Maybe it was truer than she'd known, telling Sansa he had been the one to manipulate her instead of the other way around. Everything she had fought for all her life, he’d ripped away in the blink of an eye, with one secret whispered into the quiet between them.

  


She didn't want to believe it, her mind railed against it, but her heart…

  


Why she hadn't questioned it before was anyone's guess. Drogon favored him as he never had another, and she'd known somewhere deep within her Rhaegal would as well. Knew it wasn't just because she loved him. That there was something more to him. So much more. 

  


He had told her the truth. It was what he did. Spilling them like cold water sloshed from a cup onto skin, clear and free and shocking. But Jon never let his honesty fall from his lips with malice.

  


Anyone else might have kept it to themselves until it would cause her the most damage, announced it in front of their bannermen to stake their claim while stealing hers. But not Jon. He could have done any number of things, but he told her the truth and he'd done it while they were alone. As gentle as she supposed anyone could have.

  


She was relieved to learn her brother hadn’t been the dishonorable man some called him. All the stories she knew from Ser Barristan and Varys, she couldn’t imagine how he'd been the sort of monster who raped. And it did give her a small bit of peace to know they'd been in love. Because of them, Jon had come into the world. And Ned Stark had lied to his best friend, his king, to keep him safe. The love he had for his sister had saved Jon. All the stories she’d heard about Ned Stark being honorable now made sense. He never broke his vow to his wife, only made a different one to his sister. 

  


But why did Jon tell her now? On the brink of battle. Why ruin their last moments together. They may very well die, she would've gone without knowing, being none the wiser. He had to know she wouldn’t take it well. It felt like a declaration of intent. Did he mean to stake his claim if they lived? Did he do this because he didn’t think she was fit to rule after the Tarlys? He obviously knew about it if he had talked to Sam. Did he think her unfit now? Tyrion had questioned her decision, calling it impulsive. Did Jon think the same? Did he think her mad?

  


He was at her side and she nearly flinched to feel his hand grip her forearm. It was only yesterday they had gone on their joyous flight together, stole a moment away from the dreaded storm for themselves. But she needed time, and space, her anger, and sadness were still too close to the surface. She stepped away. 

  


“Dany...” his voice was pleading, filled with pain.

  


“No. We’re not talking about this now,” she insisted, her own heart feeling as if it were being crushed within her chest, air no longer coming easy, but brittle and breaking against her throat. Every breath drawn felt as if she were swallowing shards of glass.

  


What could he say? She was riding into his war with the knowledge that if they survived, everything she had worked for could be erased if one person declared for him. And they would. They always favored male heirs. She loved him, still. He would be a good king, but where did that leave her? He would have to take a wife to give him what she could not: heirs. 

  


Just the thought was a sharp and rusty spoon scooping out her guts. Standing aside as he ruled would be one thing, but to see him with another, watch her grow heavy with his child...

  


Turning her back on him, she sucked in great gasps of air in hopes of swallowing down the burning bitter sick threatening to rise from her depths.

  


She needed something else to latch onto before the pain washed her away and left her wasted and wrecked. Anger was her only hope. She spun on him.

  


“You’ve ignored me all day! Why, Jon? Why when I finally track you down do you tell me something you can’t prove based off a  _ feeling _ you have from the word of your brother and a best friend? A friend who truly hates me!?” It was unfair of her, she knew that. Jon hadn’t been unkind in delivering the news. In fact, it was as if he'd been trying to console her for the horrible stain that marred her brother’s legacy. But it only served to make her feel more alone than she ever had. She should be used to the feeling by now. She knew it well. That knowledge did nothing to numb the pain.

  


She had longed for family all her life. Targaryens to sit at her table with, share laughs and love. But this felt like bitter ash in her mouth. The man she loved… still loved… her fool’s heart rushed into this and now she was stuck in a swirling hole of loneliness. One he helped to perpetuate. Would he also be the only one who could fix it? Was that even possible?

  


He grasped her arm then, turning her toward him. Fire sparked in the black pools of his eyes, his brow and lush mouth both pinched tight. He was a mirror to her soul, she could see it and feel it coming off of him in waves. The hurt and fury and fear boiling beneath the surface. She didn't want to cause him pain, she didn't, but she was helpless to stop it. 

  


“I avoided you because I wanted to run to you the moment I knew.”

  


She jerked away, his confession a slap across her cheek despite the wavering of his voice, the drowning guilt swimming within his eyes. “Then why didn't you?”

  


“Because you were the  _ one _ person who stood to be hurt the most.” He’d pulled the words free, strangled and slow, exhaustion painted pale and pointed over his pretty face. “That's the last thing I wanted to do,” he said softly, a rushed and unsteady breath leaving him. “I love you, Dany. Don't you know that?”

  


“I thought I did.”

  


He was the one to pull away then, her words cutting him to the quick, opening up a wound for the festering to pour forth. And it did. “Don’t do this,” he spat an inch from her face, his fire meeting hers, burning and bright. “You know who I am, like no one else. I'm no different than I was. You have to trust me. We don't have time for this, the dead are coming.”

  


“ _ The dead are already here _ ,” she hissed through clenched teeth before turning and stalking toward Drogon. She needed to destroy something, unleash the rage churning inside her, to unbind herself from the bitterness, the unfairness of all that had been heaped upon them.

  


But she didn't get far. Jon spun her around, her arms in his iron grip, his face a breath from hers. “Fuck them! Fuck all of this! I’m not leaving here and neither are you until you hear me!” he roared. “I love you! I don’t want the throne! Fuck the throne! If you want the damn thing when all of this is over I'll help you take it. But listen to me when I tell you, I don’t want it. I don’t want a bloody crown, or the Seven Kingdoms either. I don't want any of it! I only want an end to this war and you to be mine!”

  


The dam broke, her walls crumbling to rubble, leaving her heart raw and bleeding, unprotected. He meant every word. But it didn't matter what either of them wanted. This horrible truth would not set them free but chain them both. They had a duty to fulfill. “You’re the heir,” she whispered. It was all she could manage, her throat constricted and cramped. “You have to marry someone, have the child I can't give you… carry on our house.”

  


He looked as if he'd be sick, right there in the snow at her feet. She thought she might join him. “That's what you think I’d do? Or is that what you want me to do?”

  


“It’s your duty to our family,” she gasped, her lungs desperate for air that refused to come.

  


“Fuck that, too!” he yelled and she took a step back at the vehemence in his voice, but he didn’t release her. Pulled her closer instead. So close she could feel the heat of him, smell him. Tears blurred his beautiful face from her sight. She bit her cheek to keep them contained. 

  


“You're the only Targaryen I give a damn about,” he rasped, his fingers flexing around her arms. “You’re my family, Dany. Mine and mine alone. And I’m yours. I love you and I know you love me!” he insisted, shaking her while his voice did the same. “I put love aside for duty too many times, I’m not doing it again. I won’t leave you for anyone, do you hear me? You're not getting on that dragon until you know that! Tell me you know that.”

  


Her heart shattered and mended all at once. She nodded, a pitiful sob escaping her as she flew into his arms and crashed her lips into his. He pulled her to him, his mouth feasting on hers as if she held the last breath he'd ever take. 

  


The cries of dying men rang from the castle and they broke apart. She looked up at him, into those dark and depthless eyes she loved so much and hated herself for ever doubting him. Everything she needed to know was right there, staring back at her. 

  


She shook her head, unable to slow the tears. “I'm sorry, I should've—”

  


“Hush, it's alright,” he soothed her, a gloved finger wiping away a tear. “It was a lot. I’ve felt like a drowning man since I found out. How could I blame you for feeling any different?”

  


She wanted time they didn't have. _Damn the gods for doing this to them, now of all times._ She gave him what assurance she could. “I love you. We’ll do this just as we promised: together.”

  


His smile was small and sweet, her face cupped in his hands. He kissed her again, whispering against her lips. “Together.”

  


“Come back to me, Jon,” she breathed.

  


“And you to me, Dany.”

  


She let him go, feeling whole, yet ripped in half and climbed onto Drogon. As she watched him mount Rhaegal, her blood began to burn and race through her veins. They would kill their enemies with fire and blood like the dragons they were. All the rest they'd figure out later. All that mattered now was surviving and finding their way to each other again.

  


She felt his eyes on her and met them with her own. “I love you. No matter what happens,” he promised, yelling over the din.

  


“I love you, too. No matter what.”

  


At his nod, she leaned forward, grabbed onto Drogon’s spikes and flew into the night. Looking back, she saw Rhaegal rise into the air and follow and she sent a prayer to gods she didn’t believe in they'd come out alive.


End file.
